


I Breathe In and I'm Where I Began

by dwarrowkings



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bodyswap, Holding Hands, Kissing, M/M, it's all very scandalous you know, love confessions!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29015850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwarrowkings/pseuds/dwarrowkings
Summary: Just a cute little bodyswap fic that I wrote in response to my friends (and me, I started it) losing our shit about a video ranking the sexiest pieces of armor to remove for your homoerotically charged ship.__"What," Merlin hisses, "in the world do you think you're doing?" It wasn't really a question, so for a moment, Arthur doesn't answer.Instead, Arthur takes his hand, turning his wrist up to get at his bracers. This wasn't armor he wore very often, but Arthur still remembers how to take it off.He pushed his thumb into Merlin's palm to hold his hand steady, ignoring how his heart raced at the simple touch. This is just how it was with Merlin. Even though it was his hand, it was still Merlin looking at him, Merlin's attention. That's all Arthur needed. He took in a deep breath, and said "I'm taking off the armor, you dolt.""That's my job." Merlin sounds defensive and hurt. It doesn't make any sense."Yes, that really is the thing isn't it?" Arthur says. "Since for now, I'm you."
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 248





	I Breathe In and I'm Where I Began

**Author's Note:**

> title from "Kingdom Come" by Astyria
> 
> Inspired partially by [this video](https://goodnightmoonvale.tumblr.com/post/641388752359587840) and a conversation with friends on discord. Written entirely in the last 12 hours. Your guess is as good as mine why this is like it is.

Arthur knew immediately when he looked down at his hands what had happened. They weren't his hands, were they? He'd watched these hands for years, scrubbing tables, holding trays, washing clothes, handing him his sword. Arthur resolved to give Merlin a hand salve for Christmas. Gaius would know something. 

"Arthur." Merlin says with Arthur's mouth. He doesn't say anything else. 

"Don't wear it out." He says. He does a quick assessment of their situation. The middle of a field, which matches Arthur's last memory before he looked down and saw Merlin's hands instead of his own. There wasn't anyone around, but that didn't mean that no one was watching. 

Arthur thinks about what kind of thing Merlin would say to get them to leave this task early. 

"I promised Gaius I would pick herbs today." Arthur says. Merlin looks at Arthur, with what he knows is his surprised and suspicious face. 

Thankfully, Merlin catches on pretty quickly. 

"You never tell me your plans before we go out." He complains. "You're lucky that I understand that your appointment with Gaius is just as important as your duties with me." Arthur internally rolls his eyes. He does not sound like that, at all. 

"Thank you, sire." Arthur says, all sweetness. 

\--

As soon as they were in Arthur's rooms, the hissing whispers began. 

"What," Merlin hisses, "in the world do you think you're doing?" It wasn't really a question, so for a moment, Arthur doesn't answer.

Instead, Arthur takes his hand, turning his wrist up to get at his bracers. This wasn't armor he wore very often, but Arthur still remembers how to take it off. 

He pushed his thumb into Merlin's palm to hold his hand steady, ignoring how his heart raced at the simple touch. This is just how it was with Merlin. Even though it was his hand, it was still Merlin looking at him, Merlin's attention. That's all Arthur needed. He took in a deep breath, and said "I'm taking off the armor, you dolt." 

"That's my job." Merlin sounds defensive and hurt. It doesn't make any sense. 

"Yes, that really is the thing isn't it?" Arthur says. "Since for now, I'm you." 

Merlin makes a noise, and Arthur ignores it. Legs next, he decides. Merlin always goes for the pauldrons next, and it's never made sense to Arthur, who had to stand with leg armor while he undid the gambeson straps himself. 

Merlin's fingers were nimble, Arthur wasn't sure if it was an inherent trait of his hands or muscle memory from having done this so many times before. The knee brace wasn't so different from his normal armor, but Arthur had to kneel to undo it. There was a higher buckle, on the inside of the thigh, and Arthur unbuckled that one quickly, not looking Merlin in the face. He undid the knee buckle staring at the hand that had come up somewhat awkwardly to hold the armor in place while Arthur worked. A motion Merlin picked up from Arthur, no doubt. 

The calf buckle was last and easiest, because Arthur had to look down for the minute it took him to do it. When He was done, he tugged on the bottom a little, and Merlin lifted his foot enough for Arthur to tug it down. He sat it on the table, out of the way, and moved to the other leg. 

The second thigh buckle was just as awkward as the first, and Arthur’s knees were starting to ache from the stone floor. He shifts, and Merlin makes a noise. Arthur knows that noise, has felt it come out of his own throat plenty of times. Good to know that Arthur’s body responds to Merlin the same way no matter whose mind is occupying it. 

No, Arthur can’t think of that right now. The things that Merlin could learn about him - being in his body. Every single thing was embarrassing and intimate and would leave Arthur undone. Who would know anything about this. Gaius, maybe. He knew plenty about things he shouldn’t. He’d help the person he recognized as Merlin, right?

Arthur moves his hands down to get at the knee buckle, when Merlin sways a little. Arthur looks up, unable to reconcile the feeling of how his face looks with the feeling in his chest. 

“Arthur?” Merlin makes Arthur’s voice uptick like a question. It’s weird to hear it like that. 

“Merlin.” Arthur says. He finishes unbuckling the knee strap blind. He moves his hands automatically down to the calf-strap, and undoes that one as well. They go through the stepping-out procedure again. 

Arthur sits back on his heels, the body warmed leg armor still in his hands, and keeps his eyes on his own face. He recognizes everything he sees there, the dazed eyes, the flushed cheeks, the clenched jaw so that his mouth doesn’t gape open. He can even tell, just a smidge, that his shoulders are tight under the pauldrons. 

Merlin sticks out his hand, intending to help Arthur up, but Arthur hands him the piece of armor instead. He lifts one knee, pulling his foot under him, and pushes up. 

He nearly topples over, because Merlin’s knee catches halfway up. the only way to get it to unhook is to go back down, and restart. Merlin huffs at this, and sticks his hand out again. 

Arthur takes it this time, grateful for the help. 

He moves to stand behind Merlin, so he can undo the lacings for the pauldrons. Merlin had tied them in knots, the idiot, but Arthur doesn't say anything about that. 

“Is it always like that?” Arthur asks. The lacing undoes too easily in his hand, which he knows is Merlin’s intervention. He’s meant to be hiding magic from him, the idiot. 

“Maybe?” Merlin says “For me, yeah, it’s pretty much always like that.”

“What,” Arthur huffs, loosening the laces and holding it steady so that Merlin can wiggle out of it. “Your knee always locks up when you stand? Why did you never say anything?”

“What?” Merlin asks, suddenly affronted. “No, my knee doesn’t always lock up.” But the tone of his voice, Arthur knows, reflects that it happens more than he wants to admit. 

“You could always ask for help.” Arthur says, but internally he’s beating himself up for not even noticing. How had he not noticed?

It always felt like all of his attention, sequestered away in his room like this, that all of his attention was on Merlin. Maybe it was just on how Merlin made him feel. 

“From whom?” Merlin says, looking around the room as if someone else would jump out of the stone-work. Arthur sighs and moves to the other shoulder.

“From me, you idiot.” The knot unties itself before Arthur even touches it, and he catches it before it falls away. He holds it for a minute, but Merlin doesn’t immediately start to wiggle out of it. 

Instead, he turns his head, and from his vantage point he can half see the look on his own features. 

“But - “ and before Merlin can continue he cuts him off. He pulls the shoulder piece away from the shoulder, and forces it a little way down the arm. Merlin gets the point, and pulls his arm out. 

Once that’s done, he busies himself with settling it away in its proper spot, and before he can stop himself he says “I trusted you to tell me if something really bothered or hurt you.” 

“Having my knee lock up once or twice isn’t that bad - “ but Arthur really doesn’t want to hear it. 

“I should have noticed something was wrong, at least.” He puts it on the table, so that when he gets back from talking to Gaius, he can clean it before it gets put away. He clenches his hand on the table for a moment before turning back toward Merlin. 

“Can you get out of the gambeson by yourself?” Merlin didn’t normally do it for him, but taking off your own jacket wasn’t too difficult, surely? 

Arthur has the distinct displeasure to see his own hands fumble with the buckles, and he steps forward with a sigh to undo them for Merlin. It’s backwards of the way he’s used to, but when he touches the buckles, they thrum and spring apart - like they’re happy to obey his command. 

He studiously looks away for the whole ordeal, painfully aware of what face he’d be making if Merlin were this close and not wanting to see it. He focuses on his fingers, making sure that his hands don’t catch on the heavy, quilted silk. When Merlin is free, he allows Merlin to take it off himself, knowing that the bath has already been ordered. 

In fact, the familiar knock comes right as Arthur is trying to figure out how to extricate himself from this room as soon as possible. 

“Well,” Arthur says. “I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy.” 

“Where are you going?” And bless him, he manages the imperious edge of a prince. 

“I’m going to see what Gaius needed me for earlier.” His eyes dart to the servant with the steaming water buckets, and wills Merlin to understand _I’m going to Gaius to find a way out of our present mess._

“Oh.” Merlin says, a little deflated. “Well, go on then.” he flaps his hand in a particularly unflattering impression of Arthur. His eyes are alight with the prospect of a hot bath. Probably a rare luxury for Merlin and one that Arthur is happy to provide in this case and never think about the implications thereof. 

\--

Gaius knows immediately. 

“Arthur?” He says. Arthur tries not to react beyond a look of concern. 

“No? Merlin.” He says, touching his chest. See? Me Merlin. You Gaius. “I’m not sure who to call if you’re going to be ill, Gaius? Who doctors the doctors?”

“Other doctors, majesty. Merlin would know some.” He says, smug, as if to prove his point that Arthur was in fact, Arthur, and not Merlin, who he was pretending to be.

“But I am Merlin!” he insists. He wants very badly to bash his head against the door. 

“Are you head-addled, prince? I can tell it’s you, Arthur. God bless you, you knocked before you came in. Merlin simply doesn’t have the manners.” 

“He really doesn’t.” Arthur agrees. “Well, I guess that simplifies quite a few things for explanation, Gaius, and saves me quite a bit of lying.” 

“You are a terrible liar.” Gaius reminds him, not unkindly.

“I have exactly one lie in me Gaius, and you know it.” Gaius makes a noise as if to say “and don’t I know it.” and Arthur moves on. 

“So this… situation.” he starts, unwilling to say “curse” or “spell” in case some super specific monitoring that his father may or may not have in place be triggered. Mostly nosy listeners. “Can it be remedied?”

“From what I remember, the last time I saw it happen, it worked itself out in less than half a day.” Gaius rubs his chin. Arthur tries not to jump in joy. 12 hours. He could be back in his body by morning. 

“Is that the maximum duration or are there requirements that need to be met.” Arthur doesn’t know a whole lot about magic, but he knows that where Merlin is concerned, it tends to go sideways. He’s often the exception, as opposed to the rule. 

“There are some requirements, but surely you’ve already met them.” Gaius gives him a look. Arthur isn’t sure of his meaning. 

“That’s cryptic.” Arthur says. 

“I only meant that typically the - situation requires both parties to recognize how they feel about each other.” Arthur’s stomach drops. 

“Gaius, I--” but Gaius cuts him off. 

“Don’t give me that, Arthur. Surely you two have…” He trails off and makes a useless gesture with his hands. 

“He’s my servant.” Arthur hisses, angry. That’s all the explanation he should need, but he continues. “I would _never_.” 

“You’re two sides of the same coin.” Gaius says. “Surely you both know this.”

“I am responsible for his well being,” Arthur hisses, even more desperately. “How could you even think that I’d--” he stops abruptly, unable to even articulate the monstrosity of what Gaius is suggesting. 

“Arthur.” Gaius says, gently.

“Half a day you said?” Arthur asks, briskly. Avoidance is his only option. 

“Yes, about 12 hours.” 

“Then I will spend the remainder of that time in Merlin’s rooms. Unless you have any duties for him that I could perform?” This is how he recognizes his anger - the over formality, the polite, quiet, timbre of his voice. It isn’t how Merlin feels anger at all. He wonders if that’s what originally gave it away. How different, how separate, how truly mis-matched he and Merlin really were. How obvious it would have been, to everyone who looked, that Merlin wasn’t acting as he normally did. Arthur feels like a fool. 

“No, sire. He had the afternoon off, as it were.” Gaius says. 

“Thank you.” Arthur says simply. He moves to open the door where Merlin sleeps, and it opens before his hand touches the handle. 

“Arthur!” Gaius says, concern pushing the sound of his voice up several octaves. 

Arthur turns in the doorway. He can feel the weight of his own stare in Merlin’s face. How uncanny it must be. 

“You mustn’t tell anyone. He only wants to protect you.” Gaius says all in a rush. “He’d never--”

“Of course he’d never hurt me.” Arthur says. This is some particularly wild imagining, especially from Gaius. How could he have never noticed? “I’ve known for ages. He’s truly awful at hiding it at all, and especially from me.” Arthur sees the look on Gaius’s face and almost laughs. “He’s saved my life more times than I can count,” he says, with perfect disgust, “the least I can do is keep him from my father’s pyre.” 

There’s a spark of something in Gaius’s eyes, but Arthur turns away and slams the door before Gaius can act on it. 

\--

Merlin’s bed is uncomfortable. Arthur knows this as soon as he throws himself into it, but he lets it bother him for about an hour before he sits up, sighing. Unbecoming of a prince, but Arthur decides to pick up Merlin’s room a little bit, and quietly resolves to arrange for a more comfortable bed for Merlin. Something nice to come back to when Arthur is done mistreating him. 

Arthur finds every single spellbook that Merlin has hidden, and stacks them on the small bed. He reaches into the cabinet that Merlin has been using as a wardrobe, and there’s not even a secret panel or anything. There’s nowhere to hide anything in this room. For goodness’s sake, even Arthur has some drawers with false bottoms in his rooms. So, a new wardrobe it is too, and an explanation of exactly where and how to access a secret hideaway in them. For now, he hides them under the mattress. It’s too uncomfortable to sleep on anyway. 

Gaius must hear the rustling, because he knocks on the door just as Arthur is finishing putting all of the dirty laundry in a bucket to wash later. 

“Are you hungry?” Gaius asks. 

“No.” He lies. He’s starving, but he can’t eat. He’s still mulling over what Gaius implied about his and Merlin’s relationship earlier. “Does Merlin have a washboard and some soap?” 

Gaius looks at him with wide, surprised eyes. “He borrows mine.” 

“Just the washboard, then.” He’ll get his own soap from his laundress. Let her believe that Arthur is punishing Merlin and lightening her load. 

“You cleaned.” Gaius says, surprise evident in his voice. 

“He certainly doesn’t.” But Arthur supposes he gave Merlin quite a bit of cleaning to do, it must not be easy to do when Arthur sends him away at night. Also, it’s typically night, so he’s not sure when he’d have the light to do so, even with a candle. This is just further confirmation that Arthur is an awful master, and how little Merlin actually complains about his circumstances. He complains plenty in general. 

Gaius hands him the plate, which holds a hunk of bread and some soup. His stomach growls, and Gaius laughs. “He eats more than you’d think.” He gives in, and sits on the bed, holding the bowl of soup in one hand and balancing the hunk of bread on his knee. 

“Oh, believe me,” he says, ripping a hunk of bread off and dipping it into the soup. “I’ve seen him eat. Always ravenous.” He plops the now soggy bread in his mouth, and decidedly doesn’t groan at how good it is. It warms some forgotten place in his soul too. He eats more with the wooden spoon Gaius brought with it. 

“He truly is a bottomless pit.” Gaius looks at him, considering. “He uses a lot of energy.” The implication that Merlin is focusing that energy at Arthur is clear. 

“I know. I give him whatever I can. Cook is so happy that I started eating all of the food she’s sending up that she’s started sending second helpings. She wants to put some meat on my bones, but unlike Merlin, I can only eat so much.” 

“She knows you’re giving half of it to Merlin.” Arthur is mildly surprised at that, but doesn’t dispute it. The people in the castle seem to love Merlin almost universally. It’s almost become a litmus test for newcomers - if they don’t love Merlin, they don’t last long. 

“More than half.” Arthur says, going back to his soup. “Do you know where I can get some water? For the washing, I mean.” 

“Merlin normally gets it from the public well. But I can have some brought in for you.”

“No, it won’t hurt me to drag up my own water for once.” He piles Merlin’s laundry in the bucket, and on his way out of the castle, he begs some soap from Alice, who usually does his laundry. His complaint that Arthur wants these done “right away” does wonders; she rolls her eyes and sighs, but coughs up the soap with a grin. He gives her an answering one, wide and dopey like only Merlin can give and goes to spend the rest of his afternoon working out his frustrations on Merlin’s clothes. 

He’s halfway through his shirts when someone sits next to him. 

“Been a while since I saw you here, Merlin.” Arthur recognizes her as one of the assistants to Cook, and he gamely helps her draw up some water for her own washing. He remembers she has two little ones, so he asks after them, and she goes off on a dreamy rant about how perfect they are, even when they’re crying their eyes out because they don’t want to go to bed when it’s bedtime. 

He finishes scrubbing the last pair of pants just as she’s asking him what Arthur’s up to that he has the afternoon off. Arthur mutters something about spoiled prat princes, and she smiles. “Don’t you worry, none, Merlin. I’m sure he’ll come around soon. He loves you, we can all see it.” 

“He does not.” Arthur tries to be playful and defensive all at once, but inside he’s panicking. Is Merlin getting singled out because of Arthur’s obvious affection for him? 

“Of course he does. He’s over the moon for you, just as you are for him. You just have to talk to him!” 

“I couldn’t. He hates me. He tells me all the time.” It was even true. Arthur told Merlin he was useless at least twice a week, and often to cover up the swell of fondness in his chest for Merlin’s antics. 

She just smiles at him, finished with her washing. He helps her wring out the clothes, and she walks away with the last parting shot “Just talk to him.” 

If only it were that simple. 

\--

“Merlin!” Gaius says, suspiciously loud when Arthur returns to Gaius and Merlin’s shared rooms. 

“Hullo Gaius,” Arthur says with bubbly affability. “Got anything for me?” 

“Oh, no, just a visitor.” He says, his voice pointed and cryptic. 

“Anyone we know?” Arthur asks, and then the worst thing of Arthur’s short life happens - Gaius winks at him. 

“He’s waiting for you in your room.” He dithers, making sure that he puts Gaius’s washboard in back where he got it, and fumbling with the bucket on purpose to delay the conversation he knows is coming.

Gaius starts to shoo him toward the door, and Arthur gives up the ghost of putting this conversation off. 

He opens the door, one handed, and Merlin whacks his head on the top of the cabinet where half of his body had been shoved looking for something. 

“Arthur,” Arthur says, and Merlin makes a face. 

“Don’t pretend, Gaius already knows.” He seems to realize something, and points an accusatory finger at Arthur. “Did _you_ tell him?” 

“What? _Me?_ Of course not!” Merlin splutters at this, and Arthur concedes “He knew the moment I came in.”

Merlin’s suspicious muttering is cut off when he sees the bucket in Arthur’s hands. He cocks his head and asks “Did you wash my clothes?” 

Embarrassed, but no point in hiding it, “Yes.” 

“You made Alice do it.” 

“I did not!” 

Merlin sniffs and gives him a truly hard stare. “It smells like your laundry, Arthur.” 

“Yes, I asked Alice for some soap before I went out to the pump.”

“You! Pump!” Merlin almost shouts, incoherently. 

“Keep it down, idiot! This room is about as private as a horse stall. Yes, I washed your clothes! They were strewn everywhere and I couldn’t think!” 

A realization must hit Merlin then, because he goes pale. “My books,” he whispers almost too low to hear. 

“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur says, heavy with meaning. “Your books.” Merlin clenches his fists, and Arthur says “I hid them away for you.” Which reminds him. “Your bed needs replacing. And you need a new wardrobe.” 

“And how am I--” Merlin starts, but Arthur has already put the bucket down and shakes his shirt out at him. It sprays a fine mist of water in Merlin’s face and he shuts up in surprise. 

“I’m responsible for providing for you, idiot. You’re part of my household, so if you need anything - like a wardrobe with some false bottomed drawers - it’s me you should be asking. It’s my responsibility to you to provide you with the things you need.” He searches around for the hidden line where Merlin hangs his clothes. 

“Oh.” Merlin says, apparently shocked out of words.

“You didn’t think that this just went one way, did you?” Arthur asks, aware very deeply of the double meaning of his words. He’s hoping that Merlin will catch on, but he knows it’s almost hopeless. He still can’t find the line, but Merlin is catching on to something at least, and turns up his hands as if to say _i don’t have one?_ Ugh, Merlin dries all of his clothing with magic. What a useless idiot. 

“But, I’m your servant?” Yes, which was much of the problem. Arthur sighs, and conjures a line, taught and firm, to throw Merlin’s clothes over, shaking them out as he goes. Merlin splutters, but doesn’t fully argue.

“Yes, which means that in return for your service, I’m responsible for your comfort and needs.” Arthur continues. In truth, this is the end of his speech. If he can’t trust Merlin to come to him with the things he needs, Arthur will just have to pay closer attention and provide them as he sees fit. 

“How did you do that?” Merlin asks, instead of asking anything stupider, like _you’re not going to turn me in to your father are you?_ which is almost a relief. 

Arthur shrugs. He doesn’t know how he did it, but he suspects that it only works because like Gaius said: two halves of one whole idiot. Merlin’s magic recognizes Arthur, and it just...works for him. He doesn’t want to think about it too hard. 

“Did you ask Gaius about how long this would last?” Arthur asks, instead of answering. 

“He said we had to talk, but it should be fixed by morning.” There’s a complicated look on Arthur’s face, and Arthur doesn’t want to figure out what’s making Merlin make it.

Arthur sighs. Better to get this over with. “Yes, he mentioned that we had some things to discuss.” 

Nonsensically, Merlin brightens. He sits on his bed, and the smile melts off his face. 

“I said your bed was terrible. Also that’s where I hid your _incredibly legal_ books.” Arthur has a smile on his face, but he sits on the bed next to Merlin. He looks at the conveniently placed drying laundry - shirts and ridiculous scarves and ill-fitting trousers and sighs. 

“How much did Gaius tell you about the last time he ran into this?” Arthur offers. 

“Only that it’d happened before and it should wear off before tomorrow.” Merlin looks at him when he sighs deeply. He doesn’t look back for fear of what Merlin would see on his own face. He may not be as used to his own reflection as Arthur is, but surely he knows what longing looks like on his own features. 

“He told me that the other case only cleared up that quickly because the people involved… confessed secrets of an intimate nature.” Arthur equivocates. This is, basically, what Gaius had told him, without the implication that he’d thought Arthur and Merlin were already fucking. 

“But you already know about-” he says at full volume, and then, at a much quieter hiss “-magic. What else could there possibly be?” 

“Yes.” Arthur says. “Well.” He clears his throat. “He also implied that he thought that we were already… involved, which would help matters.” 

“Involved?” Merlin says again, at full volume. Arthur covers his face in embarrassment and shame. 

“He implied we were sleeping together, Merlin.” He didn't have a hope of hiding it for long, so he might as well just lay it all out for Merlin.

“What?” Merlin almost yells, and then at a quieter volume “He did not.” It’s not any less incredulous though. 

“He did,” Arthur concedes, “at least imply that we had feelings for each other that had been communicated.” 

“Oh,” Merlin said, slightly less affronted. “Well, that’s true enough then.” 

“Huh?” Arthur says. He’s fully confused now. 

“I know full well the depth of your feelings for me, Arthur.” Arthur can feel an icy chill sweep down his borrowed spine. “You loathe me. You barely tolerate me! But it’s fine. You’re the prince! Eventually you’re going to have to marry and make little princes and princesses and I’ll still probably be your servant and it’ll all be very, aggressively fine.” 

“Merlin,” Arthur says, strangled. What a full on idiot. “I don’t hate you.” 

Merlin scoffs self-deprecatingly and says “Oh, great, a step up!” 

“Merlin.” he says, voice sharp and reproachful. “Do you think I take just any of my servants on tour with me?” 

Merlin looks around, squirrely. Arthur admits that it might just be his own face that lends itself to squirrelishness. “No.” he admits finally. 

“And I didn’t take anyone with me before you came around except the other knights.” 

“But your armor!” Merlin protests. 

“Was taken care of by a knowledgeable squire, Merlin. I don’t _need_ you to come with me when I leave the castle. Not even to protect me with your…” he waggles his fingers in an approximation of Merlin’s magic. 

“Oh.” Merlin sounds sad, at this. He shouldn’t be sad, he should be catching on. 

“Merlin, I take you along because I want you around.” There he’d all but admitted that he never wanted to be parted from Merlin for the rest of his days. 

“You… want to spend time with me.” Merlin says, as if this is a great realization, instead of the same thing that Arthur just admitted. Arthur hums his agreement. “And you know about magic and haven’t set me on fire.” 

“Of course I haven’t, and don’t say it so loud!” he says. 

“You… want me to have a better bed. And a better wardrobe, and a proper hiding place for…” he trails off, and shifts on the bed. 

“Yes.” Arthur admits. It isn’t quite as bad as pulling teeth, but it’s very close. He hates having feelings. 

“Arthur.” Merlin says, waving his hand in front of Arthur’s face. “Hey, Arthur. Look at me.” Arthur refuses for a bullish moment, and then turns. Whatever Merlin sees on his face must give him hope or courage or something equally as stupid because he says “I love you too.” he’s got a giant, stupid grin on his face, and Arthur’s head spins. This can’t be it. This is such a stupid cure for such a stupid curse. 

“I didn’t say it.” Arthur says, crossing his arms solidly over his chest. 

“You didn’t have to.” Merlin sounds so happy about this, and it’s so stupid. “Arthur, is something wrong?” 

“No.” he says, stubbornly, and then sighs. He can practically hear Merlin pout. “Ok fine. I’m so pathetic I fell in love with my servant, the one person in the whole kingdom who is truly off limits. Oh, and on top of that, if my father found out he was a sorcerer, he’d die pretty much immediately. Does that cover it? Is that accurate enough for you?” 

“I’m off limits?” Merlin asks. He sounds absolutely delighted. 

“Horrifically. It’d be a betrayal of the highest order to force myself or my feelings on you.” 

Merlin hums with a smirk on his face, taps his mouth with his finger smugly and says “Kinky.” 

Arthur reaches around him to grab Merlin’s pillow and whack him with it. “Not kinky, asshole. Inappropriate. I’ve already got to be careful because I’m a prince and that means that basically anyone could be beholden to anything that I might want.” 

“Ah, but I’m a” and Merlin’s voice lowers conspiratorially, “sorcerer. So you can’t force me into anything.” 

Arthur sputters, but Merlin gleefully slaps his hand over his mouth. “Shut up Arthur, and let me bask in this. You _love me_. This is the best day of my life.” Merlin removes his hand. 

“And you spent fully half of it in my body, in the bath.” Arthur grumps. 

“Yeah, it was pretty great.” Merlin agrees. 

“So what, we just… wait until morning? And we’ll wake up normal?” Arthur hopes. Feelings conveyed. 

“Gaius seemed to think so.” 

“Well, I’m not doing it in here.” Arthur stands, and offers his hand to Merlin. Merlin takes it. 

“Ooh, sire, a sleepover.” he says, in what is possibly the most gleefully disrespectful use of “sire” Arthur has ever heard, and from Merlin, he’s heard a lot. 

“Your bed is very lumpy.” Arthur argues. The door opens for them before they reach it, and Gaius’s eyes flick from Arthur to Merlin and then down, quick as a flash, to their clasped hands. Arthur lets go. 

“My bed is currently a library.” Merlin agrees. “Libraries are lumpy.” 

Gaius nods at them, and Arthur takes his as his cue to leave. 

“Quiet!” Arthur hisses. He doesn’t need the whole castle knowing that there are books in Merlin’s bed instead of Merlin tonight. 

“Don’t you shush me, I’m the prince. I can talk as loudly as I want.” Merlin jokes. Arthur gives him a hard look, and then he turns away, and stalks to his rooms. Maybe he should give Merlin a space closer to his own. Give Gaius his storage space back. 

When the door to his rooms is firmly shut behind them, Merlin says “Arthur?” quietly, like he’s not sure what happens next. Arthur doesn’t know either, but he can’t stand the look on Merlin’s face. 

He lifts his hand for Merlin to take, and Merlin steps forward to take it, and then leans forward and kisses him. He grips Merlin’s borrowed fingers and kisses him back. 

“I’d rather continue this when I’m not…” he gestures between them. 

“I thought you’d want to kiss yourself,” Merlin teases. “Always knew you were a little vain.” 

“I’m not vain! I’m the prince! Appearances matter! And if you’re going to stick around, your appearance matters too!” 

“My appearance matters to you.” Merlin teases. Arthur can feel his cheeks flush hot. Realization seems to strike Merlin between the eyes. “Oh.” he says, dazed. “Tomorrow.” he says darkly. Arthur nods. 

They lie in Arthur’s not lumpy bed, fingers tangled together, until they fall asleep. 

\--

Arthur stares down at Merlin’s face in the morning - thank god, his dark hair and his weird nose and sticky-outy ears and wants to kiss the whole thing. 

Merlin covers his face with his arm and says “I hate you.” 

“I have empirical proof that you don’t.” Arthur says. He tugs at Merlin’s dumb neck scarf that Arthur was honor bound not to remove, and is indeed, honor bound to remove now. 

“It’s early.” he whines, but he already seems to be waking up instead of burrowing further into the bed. 

Arthur is hit with a sudden bout of nerves. What if Merlin was just working magic on him yesterday? But the look on Merlin’s face when he moves his arm is enough to sweep that away in a tide of warmth. He looks sweet and nervous and wanting, and Arthur presses forward, bumping their noses together before pressing their mouths together. 

“Yeah?” Merlin asks, and Arthur smiles instead of answering. “Yeah.” Merlin sighs, and kisses Arthur again.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos / comments greatly appreciated for your starving writer. Also, no I have no clue what kind of crossroads deal I entered into to be like this. Any errors are my own, if you see something, ~~say nothing and drink to forget~~ let me know and I'll fix it.


End file.
